Of Merlin and Magic
by books4adreamingteen
Summary: Deep in the heart of Camelot, Merlin has a secret - a secret that can only be kept so long. With Morgana learning more and more of the old religion, Merlin and Arthur's time is running out to save Camelot. But what if there was a force more powerful that magic? What if Merlin met someone: someone who seems just as unremarkable as he...what if together, they changed a kingdom?
1. Prologue

**A/N:****_ *Waves* Hello there fellow Merlinian! Welcome to my first Merlin fanfic. *holds breath nervously!* _**

**_So, some info on the story! It's going to be pretty close to cannon (*holds hands up* please don't hate me Merther shippers and Gwen dislike-ers!), because I really do love Arthur and Gwen, and basically, if I can't be with Merlin myself (behold the problems of a fangirl…), then I want to write his story as well as I can. (and YES there is going to be romance – of course there is!) This writing style is something I haven't tried before, but I just felt it suit the time period, and the legend that is Merlin, King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. _**

**_In brief, we have Arthur and Gwen having been married for only a few months; Arthurs main knights are; Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan; Uther is dead, and Morgana still evil! Some old canon characters might make an appearance, so while this is /kind of/ cannon, it's not going to be 100% all the time! That all make sense?! Good! ^_^ 3 _**

**Disclaimer: ****_ Unfortunately, I do not own the legend that is Merlin. This particular idea of young Merlin, is – of course – owned by the BBC, and I in no way claim /anything/ aside from the plot itself, as my own. (OH FOR MERLINS SAKE, these things are so ASDFGHJKL!)_**

**_Prologue_**

Once, deep in the heart of England, there lay a great, great city. It was surrounded by the lushest of fields, and the most majestic of woodland: Camelot rose out of the ground like a fortress emerging from the mist.

At first, on the outside, before one reached the ancient walls, there lay thriving villages. In the morning, they lay in the shadow of the castle, and in the evening, the shadows grew long between the wooden huts and homes, drawing pictures onto the earth. Chickens pecked along the ground and children ran through the fields, their laughter echoing round and round…

Further in, once one entered the main gates, the lower town rushed into view. People dashed about their busy lives; markets would bustle through the narrow streets, the smell of freshly baked bread would rise through the crowds, and the banging from the blacksmiths workshop echoed through the noisy din.

As one travelled up through the cobbled lanes, the higher town was entered through another, even more impressive gateway. Standing alert each side stood the guards of Camelot. Their swards hung in their sheaths again their right thigh, each dressed with some form of scarlet red on his person. Both would watch with wary eyes for any new faces passing through; the occasional traveller would be stopped, but often they were merely looking for lodgings or trade, and they would be let on their way.

The upper town thrived as heartily as the lower, perhaps more so, as here lived the many servants who lived and worked in and around the castle. Their trades were invaluable; herb growers, leather makers, saddlers, those who designed the latest clothes, those who made the best wine- the list is an endless and impressive one to this day. A constant wave of talk kept up through every hour of the day, each neighbour wishing the other a pleasant day (or the occasional fight after a drink to many at the tavern).

It was only once one had made ones way through these places, could the heart of Camelot finally be reached. More guards stood to attention with swards drawn, none resting his eyes for a moment until he was relived from his duty. Passing through, after a thorough inspection and questioning from the red clothed guards, the castle was at last clear to see.

It sprawled across and above, so huge and intimidating, it is hard to imagine it ever existed at all – yet exist it did. Its turrets and towers flew high into the sky, each ending with a point so sharp, to touch it would surely pierce a man through his very heart. Each window was so beautifully decorated along each ledge; it is a wonder how stone can be so solid and harsh when it was once so stunning. What must have been fifty steps, led up to the most unimaginable set of wooden doors one could ever dream of; gold, swirling among the Camelot crest, dragons and lions dancing among the woods and the crowns. Often in the courtyard, tall horses, muscled and fit, stood noble in their very existence with coats as deep as coal and as shiny as a fresh conker, each with ears pricked and tails high, ready and waiting to ride.

Inside the castle itself there were many, many rooms; hundreds, nearly a thousand possibly. There were kitchens and lavatories, bed chambers and council rooms. It spanned from the dark, damp, dungeons, to the airy, light and bright ex-chambers of the Kings ward herself. Its decoration changed from the richest of tapestries and the most solid of silver, to places so barren, even the noise from a pin drop would bounce off the thick walls and high ceilings.

Our story, however, starts in none of these places. See, dear reader, our story begins with a secret. A secret that is hushed behind closed doors, practised at the dead of night. It is banished, unthinkable, punishable - impossible to stop, yet near impossible to hide … but I am getting ahead of myself.

Perhaps, I should say this: our story begins with a boy. Truth be told, a rather unremarkable boy at first glance.

It is in the north of the castle our story takes us; up spiralling stairs and long corridors, to the chambers of an old man. Back, behind the herbs and the medicines, laid a room, and in that room laid a bed, and in that bed lay a boy. As he slept, his shocking black hair rumpled onto his thin pillow, his skin perfectly porcelain, aside from the red marks where he slept with his head against his hand. A red scarf was thrown over a chair, brown trousers shoved carelessly onto the end of the bed all the while muddy footprints painted the wooden floor.

Yes – from the surface, he was a very unremarkable boy indeed.

Yet, this boy – this plain, unremarkable boy – became a legend. His name is whispered among bedtime stories of magic and myth, told throughout the ages of his greatness. His gift, his talent – his loyalty to one, who for so long knew nothing of his importance. No one could have guessed the part he would have to play; not even he himself.

Who is he then, reader? Who is this boy who we all know is so great, yet whom no one yet knew was slightly remarkable at all?

His name? Merlin.

**A/N: ****_"His name? Merlin." – I just had to have that in there somehow! So there we have it, the prologue! If you have any thoughts, comments (or 'reviews'..) are always welcome! If you would like to contact me elsewhere, you can do so by twitter, ( books4adreaming) or on YouTube where I make videos about books, (user/books4adreamingteen.)_**

DFTBA! 3  
-Jess :') x

(Written: Saturday 3rd November, 2012 x)


	2. Chapter One: A Very Old Man

**A/N: ****_Hello! Very excited about this chapter, as this is where it really all starts, and we meet Merlin and everybody else! *happy dance* _**

**_See you at the bottom! X_**

**Disclaimer: ****_As much as I wish I did, I am not the script writer for Merlin, nor am I the first to tell this legend, and of course this fanfic is based off the BBC programme. I own nothing at all, aside from the plot! ^_^ _**

**Chapter One: A Very Old Man.**

If this were a fairy-tale, there would be a hundred ways to meet Merlin. One could stumble across him while strolling through the woods at sunrise; the warm glow turning everything in his path golden, autumn leaves crunching underfoot. We could meet him as he wakes to see a thick blanket of snow has fallen overnight, and follow him as he takes care to wrap up warm for the winters day. Maybe, we could first see him in the middle of summer, watching as he takes the afternoon off and goes for a walk to hunt a few rabbits.

However, this is neither a fairy-tale, nor a story following the type of boy who would stroll through the woods of his own accord. This is Merlin. Therefore, we will meet him at the time when Merlin is being most … Merlin-y.

"MERLIN!" yelled a deep voice from the corridor outside. "MERLIN!" A door slammed open, and heavy footsteps strolled through the chambers. A faint muttering was growing louder, yet the lanky boy with raven black hair lay unmoving upon his messy bed.

"Useless… good for nothing… waste of space!" Oh yes, the mutterings were certainly growing louder. The door to Merlin's room was thrown open with an almighty, 'BANG!'.

"Wassa…" Merlin mumbled, sitting up and running a hand through his rumpled hair. He had a slight drool stain on his pillow, and he rubbed his eyes to stop them stinging- "Oh."

"Yes," nodded Arthur, smirking in the most un-impressed manor, "'Oh' indeed, Merlin!" His blond hair was flat and freshly combed as he started to pace at the end of Merlin's bed. "Don't worry about waking up: after all, it's my job to wake you isn't it?" He paused and walked towards Merlin, holding one arm behind his back. "I mean, it's not as though I'm the KING of Camelot!"

Merlin skidded across to the other side of his bed, cocking his head to one side slightly, trying to look innocent. "Now Arthur-," but Arthur cut him off.

"Oh no, hang on one second. If the man servant of the King of Camelot decides he needs a rest, of course he can do as he pleases!"

"Really?"

"No, you blubbering pile of cow dung– GET UP!" He then proceeded to remove his arm from behind his back and empty a pot of horse poo right on top of Merlin's head.

He nodded at his handiwork, especially impressed with the way it slowly splattered, and sunk slowly into his mop of hair.

"Great. Thank you, sire." Merlin nodded, jumping slightly as another dollop fell from his head, into his lap. "Just… great."

Arthur smirked, raising his eyebrows. "See you outside for target training then," he called, walking away.

"Target traning?! You haven't done that for-"

"Oh that's not all you'll be doing today, Merlin – don't you worry! There's stables to clean, pigs to feed, boots to clean, amour to polish – I think Gwaine said something about falling into a rather unfortunate stinky, slimy patch of mud the other day. I told him you'd be happy to clean it for him! And then of course there's my bed chamber to clean, candle sticks to restock, dust to dust away…-" his voice gradually faded away as he made his way out of the physician's chambers.

Merlin threw one arm across his face and groaned. His hand met with the squashy brown dollops on his head. "Clot pole…" he huffed, falling out of bed and groping around for his clothes. Throwing on his breaches, clambering into his shirt and wrapping his red scarf snugly around his neck, he jogged down the three steps that led to Guias' quarters.

Glancing across at the table as he stumbled out the door, he saw the heavy leather bound books that he had been reading till dawn. While Merlin didn't have time to waste stopping to re-read what he already had seen last night, if he had, he would have read this:

_The Utopian Quartz of Alastard  
Only found deep in the caves of Alastard on the western borders, the Utopian Quartz is a rare, silver stone. If used correctly, it can cure the bite of the Guillipon, the sting of a Greetop or even reduce the inflammation of the brain and the decrease of internal bleeding. _

In the corner, written in the scrawl of someone only half awake, was scribbled the note: '_glashian ophrareck.' _ To you and me reader, or indeed many a people looking at the page, that would simply seem a different language. And it is. It is the language of Magic.

The language of spells and enchantments. Of healing and killing. And the language of unremarkable boys who forgot to cross over the words they scribbled from their own books, as they tried to find a cure for their guardians patients whom he has finally lost hope for…

But for now, we scurry after our hero as he raced down the narrow corridors of the castle, ducking around still guards and leaping over piles of washing the servants had yet to move. "Sorry!" he called, as he dashed past a young serving maid, making her startle and drop the tray she had precariously balanced on her arm.

Merlin had just reached the doors of the great hall, panting for breath and still trying to scrub the dung out his raven hair, when a body clad in a scarlet robe jumped into his path.

"How's it going then, Merlin?" The knight laughed.  
"Gwaine," Merlin groaned, "Please, let me through!"  
"You know," Gwaine replied, running one had through his brown locks while the other held the hall doors firmly shut behind him, "I had a dream that reminded me of you last night."  
"I-"  
"See, in the dream I was walking into the kitchens, and then the cook started telling me to get out – you know how she is: 'This is my kitchen, you'd eat everything in here if I let you, out OUT!' and so on. Well in this dream – she wasn't there! And I found the cheese and-"  
"Gwaine-"  
"-then it was suddenly held up above me-"  
"I really need to-"  
"-in this net, so I couldn't reach it. But then-"  
"Really, really need to get in-"  
"-it all fell out of it, and I was suddenly covered from head to toe in cheese-"  
"I really- wait, what?"  
"Cheese." Gwaine told him, nodding. "Cheese."  
"That makes, no sense. At all."  
"Says the boy covered in horse dung."  
Merlin ran a hand through his hair again. "How did you know about that?!"  
Gwaine shrugged, smirking.  
"Gwaine!" Shouted a voice marching round the corner, "Have you seen Merlin? When you do, send him down to the stables will you? I gave Tia the day off, so Merlin can look after the horses all day long – well, until I've thought on something worse for him to do. That reminds me, target training later today. Tell all the knights, wouldn't want them to miss it. And by the way – nice idea with the dung; you should have seen his face! I think-" Arthur stopped short as he looked up from the papers he held. "Ah… Hello, Merlin."  
Merlin turned to Gwaine, crossing his arms. "Really?"  
Gwaine broke down into a booming laugh, slapping Merlin on the back, "Mate, I would have given anything to see your face." He spun around on his heels chuckling as he walked away.  
Merlin turned to Arthur. "The horses?" He crinkled his nose, eyes shining bright. "That's not so bad," he grinned.  
"Have you met the new stallion?"  
The smile left. He gulped. "Stallion?"  
"Yes. Beast of a thing! Seventeen hands high, pitch black and not one hair of white! Fastest steed I've ever ridden! Rears a bit. And bites. Sometimes kicks. Oh well. Like you say, horses aren't so bad!"  
Arthur walked past Merlin, thumping him on the shoulder. "Oh and Merlin?"  
"… Yes?"  
"When you're done, for god's sake take a bath."

While the two halves of the whole went their separate ways; one to gather his knights at the round table, and the other to get kicked by a horse he vowed to never touch again; an old man climbed the stairs to his chambers.

His chambers were full of herbs and spices, poisons and minerals. There were books piled up on every surface, book shelves over flowing as loose pages wafted in the breeze through a crack in the window. Under the floor boards, he kept the memories of his past – books that had long since been forbidden. Books not unlike those hidden ones of our hero's – some where even the same. The old man groaned slightly as he placed down his medicine bag, resting a hand onto his aching back. "Just. A. Little. Sit. Down," he breathed, stiffly making his way over to the chair by the roughly carved table. The book we learnt about earlier still lies open on the surface. "Oh Merlin," he sighed. "It's no use…." He shook his head slightly, rubbing his fingers on his throbbing temples. "I've tried everything."

After a time, he tried to crush some herbs, then mix a potion, then simply make some dinner, but he was exhausted. "Maybe… maybe some sleep will do the trick… Yes… Sleep…" He made his way over to his low bed, and led down.

He was an old man, a very old man, and so very, very tired…

A final rest.  
A final sleep.  
A final breath.

**A/N: ****_Well. I didn't see that coming (no, really, I didn't plan to write that, goodness)! If you have any thoughts, comments (or 'reviews'..) are always welcome! If you would like to contact me elsewhere, you can do so by twitter, ( books4adreaming) or on YouTube where I make videos about books, (user/books4adreamingteen.)  
_****  
-****_DFTBA! :')  
Jess x _**

(Written 16th December, 2012)


	3. Chapter Two: The Passing

**A/N:****_ I'm still upset with myself for the ending of the last chapter. I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO THAT. Okay. It's cool. I'm sad. But it's cool. (I'm aware I make no sense… I apologize…) _**

**Disclaimer:****_ It shall always be a source of great pain that I am not a script writer on the BBC version of Merlin this fan-fic is based on. I own nothing. Aside from the story. It's mine. Mine. Mine. Mine (finding Nemo anyone? No? No? Okay. I'll get on with it…). _**

**Chapter Two: The Passing**

"No! I won't do it."  
"I have three knights with me that would suggest you do otherwise."  
Merlin glared at Arthur. "I will NOT be a moving target."  
"Scared, Merlin!" Percival boomed, swinging his sword towards a stuffed dummy that had seen better days.  
"No, I'm not scared-" He shook his head, frowning.  
"Then you won't mind doing it!" Elyan grinned, tossing him the target.  
"I-"  
"So you _are_ scared." Arthur stated, raising his eyebrows.  
"No. I. I just."  
"Which is it Merlin?" Gwaine chimed in, grinning before lunging at Percival, sword outstretched.  
"Because it can't be both." Arthur agreed.  
Merlin held the target in his arms, staggering slightly with its weight.  
"Maybe. I would do it. If it was actually possibly to lift up," he panted, while Arthur crossed his arms and stared.  
"Don't be a weakling, Merlin!" Percival shouted, still sparring with Gwaine, "Just take it up over there." He gestured towards the outer walls of Camelot, which stood slightly higher than their little group on the grass, before leaping out the way of the other knight's sword.  
"But, that's up hill! How am I supposed to get it up there?" His words came out in short breaths, as his face grimaced and his nose scrunched up.  
"Work, Merlin!" Arthur chimed, "That's what you're here for – go on!"  
"But-"  
Before Merlin could protest, a guard came marching out of the wall gates, dashing towards Arthur and the Knights.  
"Your majesty!" He called, "Your presence is needed in the physician's chambers immediately!"  
Arthur glanced at Merlin, and nodded towards the castle. His voice was serious, all joking vanishing in a heartbeat. "Come, Merlin."

Oh reader, how tragic is the dramatic irony we now behold? I will not extend their suffering much longer. However, one moment needs to be taken for us to once again become Merlin's eyes as he rushes off after Arthur. I've said about the lower town of Camelot before, and I must mention it again: though admittedly, the timing is not perfect. But as Merlin ran through in a blur of brown and red, a pair of eyes watched him from one of the wooden houses... They tracked him as he ran faster and faster towards the castle … It's not the first time they'd watched as he'd been dashing away – but never had he looked so desperate.

They blinked and in that moment, they were gone.

Through the castle Merlin and Arthur ran; past the kitchens, the great hall, the kings chambers – until they reached a set of twisting stairs. Merlin pushed in front of Arthur, earning him a grunt as his elbow collided with Arthur's nose. "Merlin! Wait a moment," he called up after him, but Merlin was too far ahead to hear him.

He burst into the chambers, the door smashing open with a 'BANG,' that echoed around the stony, grey walls. A guard stood next to Gaius's bed. He looked at him. And the guard slowly shook his head.

Merlin froze.

On the bed, un-moving, lay the closest man to a father he had ever known. "No." Merlin whispered. "No." He felt Arthur move in behind him.  
"Merlin." He murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm-"  
"NO!" Merlin shouted, throwing himself towards Gaius. "NO!"  
"Merlin!" Arthur tried to grab him as he plummeted towards the stone floor, but he missed. Merlin collapsed as he reached the bed side.  
"Gaius!" he cried, reaching towards the old man's face, brushing back the grey hair that covered his eyes. "Gaius!" he whispered, his heart breaking. Shaking, he reached out a hand and took the wrinkled one in his own. It was as cold as the stone on which he sat.

His breath caught in his throat, and the air wouldn't reach his lungs. His legs buckled further underneath him as they splayed on the ground. "Merlin," Arthur said, his voice breaking slightly, "old friend, come away."  
"No!" Merlin heaved, the tears overflowing as he attempted to breathe through the pain. He dropped Gaius's hand. His hands knotted into his hair. "No, no, no, no, no, no-" His mind was exploding. The air wasn't coming and stars were bursting before his eyes. "NO!" He screamed out loud. Every vain was on fire, every fibre of his being was screaming, burning, yelling, crying, tearing…

Thunder clapped outside as wind and rain began to pelt the window. The papers in the room started to flutter as Merlin's mind became a vortex of memories of jokes and fights and words and pictures and books and advice-

"Merlin," Arthur asked, leaning down, "look at me!" He glanced over his shoulder, jumping as a flash of lighting streaked across the sky.

The words didn't register at all. Merlin could feel the magic swelling up in him. It ebbed and flowed like a midnight sea building up to a tsunami. His breath came in short bursts and with every exhale, he felt the magic expand inside him. Every part of him was alight and ready to burst. Tears mixed with the glow of his eyes. A rational part of his brain still functioned. He had to get Arthur away.

"Leave. Me. Alone." He cried, burying his head deeper into his arms. The hand left his shoulder after a strong squeeze and footsteps padded towards the door.

"Gaius," Merlin croaked, "Come back…"

While Merlin battled against the heartbreak (and tried to control his magic), Arthur and the guard made their way out of the chambers.

"Sire, shall I stay here?"  
Arthur looked back towards Merlin before pulling shut the door.  
"No."  
"Sire?"  
"I'll stay. You go."  
The guard hesitated in shock.  
"Go." Arthur said, gesturing down the stairs. The guard nodded once before turning and slowly marching away.  
"Oh Merlin…" Arthur sighed, shaking his head. He sunk onto the floor. "I'm sorry, old friend. So sorry…"

Merlin's mind was breaking. The power was pouring through his very core. His heart broke again as he saw Gaius in front of him. A shelf came crashing down from the other side of the room. Merlin's chamber door flew open. A book flew off the table.

'_Emrys!' _a voice whispered, the sound swirling around like a breath of wind in his mind. _'Emrys, you have to calm down!' _

'_Who are you?!' _Merlin screamed, sending the message back the way it'd been received.

_'That is not important,' _it swirled, '_you have to control your magic, Emrys. If I can feel it from here-' _

_'Leave me be,-' _

_'I cannot. It is dangerous for you to lose control, Emrys'_

Merlin's hands clung to Gaius's arm, shaking as they did so. _'Leave. Me. BE!' _The candles in the room puffed out, as Merlin tried to push the voice from his mind.

'_I know what Gaius means to you… Merlin. I know who you are.'_

It was too much.

Merlin screamed; its cold, piercing sound filling the chambers as his magic burst out of control. The window shattered behind him, the glass blasting outwards like an ice waterfall. The chairs shot backwards across the room in a flash, slamming into the shelves. Pots of herbs and potions of every colour splattered and spilt out across the floor.

He was still screaming as the leather bound book -which still lay open upon the table- came catapulting towards him. It flew straight into his head, as he was forced backwards, bashing his head on the cold, stone floor.

The light dimmed before his eyes, as the tears fell down his face.

"MERLIN!" yelled Arthur, throwing open the door once as he heard the window smashing. "Mer-"

His voice faded away from Merlin as the pain and darkness overtook him.

He could only hear one thing, echoing round and round his mind as he slowly lost conscience.

_'I know who you are, Emrys... I know who you are… Merlin.' _

**A/N: **** So the plot thickens! That was fun to write. And kind of depressing. I love Gaius. *cries*  
So, If you have any comments, they are always very, very welcome! If you'd like to contact me elsewhere, I'm over at Twitter booksforadreaming, or over on YouTube where I make videos about books!: /user/books4adreamingteen****__**

P.S. I'm writing this while listening to the Hobbit soundtrack. IT IS ALL THE AWESOMES! (Like seriously. Every single one.)

**-DFTBA! ^_^  
Jess :-) x**

**(Written on Tuesday 18****th**** September, 2012) x **


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